


Trials & Tribulations

by sharingans



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, faaferu if you squint, lucisan if you really squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharingans/pseuds/sharingans
Summary: The evening sun is barely visible on the horizon, the last of its auburn rays shining onto Lucilius’s hunched form. Lucilius, who is slumping over his desk, scribbling into the margins of a leather tome.A fond smile spreads across his face, “Cilius, as much as I love the sight of you bent over a desk, you’ll give yourself backache if—”“You’re late. Again.” Didn’t even lift his head or stop writing. Not a good sign.pre-rebellion belifaa. yum
Relationships: Belial & Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy), Belial/Lucilius (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Trials & Tribulations

**Author's Note:**

> bullshitted the scientific bits don't take it too seriously xoxo

He knocks twice out of courtesy with the back of his hand, careful not to further crumple the papers in his fingers, while his other hand is already twisting at the doorknob. Foregoing the gesture would save an extra second or two, but he’s adamant to ingrain the much-coveted “manners” that the Astrals don’t expect from him. And besides, Lucilius is likely already _pissed_. The evening sun is barely visible on the horizon, the last of its auburn rays shining onto Lucilius’s hunched form. Lucilius, who is slumping over his desk, scribbling into the margins of a leather tome.

A fond smile spreads across his face, “Cilius, as much as I love the sight of you bent over a desk, you’ll give yourself backache if—”

“You’re late. Again.” Didn’t even lift his head or stop writing. Not a good sign.

He swallows, “Ah, sorry about that. You see, Sarry and I—” and now Lucilius’s free hand stretches out towards him. He wordlessly hands the report over and rushes to straighten his back. Lucilius barely glances at the front page, still writing. “Bubs handed them over this morning; the request for the Fallen Angel project has been approved. Visits once a week to monitor progression, though we already know who it’ll be. Proposals for the lab’s expansion have been submitted and the High Council will be reviewing them over the next month. Repairs to the third testing room will commence on—”

“Belial.” Lucilius snaps the book shut and lays the report on top of it. His back is still turned, and his voice is ice cold. “You received the report this morning yet waited until evening to hand it in. When you did decide to finally fumble into my quarters, it was with a creased and dirt-stained file. Your sole duty for the day was recruiting new test subjects yet you returned alone. Not only did you shirk your own responsibilities, you coerced another into doing the same. What is to stop new fallen angels from stooping to the same level of worthlessness if the Deputy Head Researcher can’t even make it from the entrance to the residential area?”

“Ouch, Cilius! I _do_ have something for you actually. Good old Sarry is having second thoughts about the whole archangel gig, I reckon he’s almost ready to fall. His regeneration is fast enough that he puts my stamina to shame, so I suggest we start with cutting his scheduled maintenances and edge him ‘til we know his limits.” He _is_ sorry about the physical state of the report, but he needed something to swat at the damn ants wandering too close to his shoes. A love bite was one thing, but a bug bite was a whole other.

Lucilius finally turns around, eyes gleaming with a curiosity reserved only for whatever poor soul is next on his vivisection checklist. In his element, Lucilius is beautiful, radiant even, shining brighter than any archangel. Idiots like Uriel can’t fathom how he keeps up with his creator’s genius brain, but it’s not hard to hang onto every word of the man that holds your heart in his hand.

“Preliminary results for Olivia’s core showed a proclivity to dark essence synthesis. Sariel’s core was made with a similar genetic constitution, but the composition of his body is constantly fluctuating. Multiple transplants to supplement his regeneration have disrupted his immune system so we’ve resorted to using enzymes to replace the gene strands.” Lucilius’s gaze focuses intently on Belial, expectant. Almost encouraging.

Is this what Lucifer is privy to when ooh-ing and aah-ing at primarch concepts?

“Combined with the dampening effect of his limiter, his core likely needs restabilising. Makes sense given his doubts about his purpose. Might be what’s interfering with the limiter’s synchronisation. A vicious cycle of healing and mutilation leading to vacillation” he sighs. It’s sad in a way. Sariel’s putting his life in his precious Deputy Head’s hands, only for the Deputy Head to determine what the most beautiful way to break him would be. He likes Sariel.

“Good. Take him apart and put him back together however you please, I expect substantial progress by two weeks’ time. This is your first official subject as Deputy Head Researcher, so don’t fuck it up. I won’t have you embarrass me.” Praise _and_ a threat? He can feel himself growing hard at Lucilius’ words, laced with venom and honey.

This is much better than whatever treatment Lucifer’s getting.

* * *

The fallen angel project is proceeding smoothly, with expectations being met and exceeded. Soon, Lucilius will have his doomed army.

Belial has personally brought countless new angels into the fallen fold, moulded their wings, fashioned their swords, raised them as pigs for slaughter.

Lucifer has made an empty doll, given a name but not a role. Pretty (a given when its brown hair and red eyes look all too similar to his own — he’s flattered, really) but useless.

What Lucifer doesn’t realise is the pathetic thing — Sandalphon — is going to fall next, and Belial will barely have to lift a finger to accomplish it.

* * *

“Luci—Oh, Deputy Head.” Jumping up from his chair, Sandalphon’s expression quickly shifts from delight to dejection as he realises who it is. “Is it time for maintenance already?”

He forces a smile, saccharine sweet. They haven’t even left the garden yet and Lucifer’s little _boyfriend_ is already in a sullen mood. “There’s still time, Sandalphon. Why don’t we take a walk around the lab until then? You must be restless with the Supreme Primarch keeping you cooped up here all the time. Let’s go stretch those wings.”

“Okay…” he mumbles reluctantly, scraping the legs of the chair as he tucks it back beneath the table.

They’re the only two around at the moment, judging by the emptiness of the halls and the way Sandalphon’s ridiculous heels echo with every step. Does Lucifer have some sort of leg fetish? From what he can see out of the corner of his eye, he can’t exactly blame him. Sandalphon does seem pretty fit for someone who sits around drinking coffee all day. Perhaps it’s Lucifer putting all the work in for the both of them during his visits to the garden after every long, hard mission… Ah, but that’s an image to return to another time.

Right now, they’re approaching the testing facilities where two familiar voices are engaged in conversation.

“My friend, what is Sandalphon’s purpose? I created him as you asked but even I haven’t discerned his role.” Lucifer’s voice is low and desperate. The thought must’ve crossed his mind as many times as it had his darling Sandalphon’s. How sweet, and sickening.

Lucilius snorts. Belial falls even more in love. “I suppose it doesn’t matter much now. He was to be a replacement for you, should you ever sustain serious injury. A substitute until you could resume your role.” Sandalphon inhales sharply.

“My… replacement?” Lucifer utters in disbelief. Sandalphon lets out that breath, slowly this time. Probably trying, and failing, to steel himself.

“Yes, but that will no longer be necessary. Your talents could never be emulated by such a cheap copy. You are perfect. Others hold but a fraction of the power you possess.” Now it’s Belial’s turn to control his breathing. “Refer him to Belial for disposal at your convenience.” He watches Sandalphon’s hands ball up into shaky fists and bitterly hopes his own composure is better kept.

“…No.” It comes out surprisingly strong and firm.

“You needn’t concern yourself with him any longer, Lucifer, though I suppose I can see the appeal in keeping a pet. In any case, let us return to the new wing. I wish to see how construction is going and want your input towards the management of the remaining expansion.” Two pairs of footsteps fade out into silence, and it is once again just Belial and Sandalphon in the spacious corridors of the facility, except now the latter’s whole body is shaking. Belial can’t see his face but he’s sure he heard a sniffle. The dull ache in his heart is nothing compared to the gaping hole in Sandalphon’s, and that thought fills him with glee.

“I can give you a better purpose. One with meaning,” he sneers, “one that Lucifer can’t ignore.”

Cheeks wet, Sandalphon raises his head and his gaze is hot enough to burn. “Tell me how.”

* * *

Wrapped in nothing but the royal navy of his bed sheets and the embrace of Belial’s arms, Lucilius unwinds. The gentle moonlight softens the sharp lines of his pale face and Belial is quiet and patient as he recites the latest of his prophetic dreams. To any outsider, Lucilius would look calm and at ease, but under the surface is a controlled fire blazing hotter than even Michael’s flames.

“How much longer?” They’re days behind schedule, all thanks to Belial’s insistence he finishes some final fine-tuning to his latest guinea pig.

“He’s recovering from the extraction of the dark essence cultivated from his core. Usually it’d be another 3 days, but this one’s got spirit. I think—”

“How long.” They can’t afford to dawdle any further. The High Council is breathing down his neck more so than usual, leading to increasingly annoying conversations with Beelzebub about Avatar’s inception.

“Tomorrow.” Lucilius narrows his eyes but Belial’s smile is wide and his eyes confident, so he closes his eyes instead and sighs. If he’s wrong, he’ll entertain the idea of boiling him alive for his core.

There’s a light, barely-there pressure on both of his eyelids, his nose, his forehead, his lips, his neck—

“Enough.”

“Aw, come on, Cilius. You keep cutting me off, and now you’re cutting off my climax too?” So whiny.

“You talk too much without saying anything of substance. And you’ve already had your climax, several times over in case you’d forgotten.” If only he’d introduced limiters earlier on. But Lucifer had advised that the higher archangels retaining their sense of self and personality was essential for evolution to move forward in a progressive, albeit non-linear, manner.

“Then what’s one more? I could go all night with a body like yours next to me.” He curses himself for the involuntary flinch — he should be past this by now. “Cilius. Please look at me.” He bites his lip and opens his eyes but very pointedly does _not_ look his way. The sigh near his ear signals surrender at this losing battle. Belial’s arms circle around him tighter and the kisses at his neck resume, slower, this time without protest.

Some days are harder than others, but at least Belial is with him through them all. Even tomorrow, when they rain hellfire from the heavens, they will reap the rewards of what they’ve sown, together. Even in 2000 years’ time, when they climb the clouds to Etemenanki and tear God down from his throne, they will watch the end of the world, together. And even in eternal torment, when their plans have been foiled time and time again, they will resign themselves to their fate, together.

**Author's Note:**

> "why does belial knock but not show up on time" "why does belial think lucisan are gross but is the same w faa" love is a mass of contradictions cilius


End file.
